


Orlando and Claire

by SunburntCoffee



Category: Orlando and Claire
Genre: Claire Meyers, F/M, Fluff, Love, Orlando Smith, OrlandoAndClaire, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunburntCoffee/pseuds/SunburntCoffee
Summary: Orlando Smith is an aspiring football player that thinks Love is an absolute waste of time. Claire Meyers is a hopeless romantic and an up-and-coming Broadway star that makes him think otherwise.New York was the goal. Philadelphia was the starting point.But, everything happens for a reason, right?





	1. Claire Meyers

**Author's Note:**

> To Casey and Marco - the real life Orlando and Claire,
> 
> I owe your second names a ton.
> 
> \-- Yana

CHAPTER 1

 

_"I dreamed a dream in time gone by, when hope was high and life worth living..." 8 year old Claire watched as her mother sang the lyrics to a song that she knew all too well. She watched as the woman who gave birth to her give her all to one performance through a television screen. She watched as the beautiful Lerrie Meyers sang her heart out as Fantine on stage, in front of thousands of people. "Wow," Claire whispered to herself, her eyes glued to the screen as she sat down on the floor of their living room. "That's my mom?" She almost couldn't believe it. She almost couldn't believe the melodic notes that her own mother was belting out. "Sure was." And there in the doorway, was Lerrie Meyers herself with an apron wrapped around her waist, "time for bed, squirt. You've watched my Les Miserables show too much already." Her mother said, arms already reaching out to the little lady sitting on the floor. "but, mom! I want to watch you sing more!" Claire protested, her arms crossing on the front of her chest and a frown forming on her angelic little face. "There's always tomorrow, my little girl." Her mom chuckled, booping little Claire's nose with her pointer finger, "but since tomorrow is still a few hours away, let's get you to bed, yeah? Wouldn't want the Dawn Monster_ _to_ _get you tonight, now would we?" Claire's eyes widened at the thought of the Dawn Monster – a_ _character that was obviously made up by her mother to try to get her to sleep – she wouldn't want him coming for her in the middle of the night. "but... but... the Dawn Monster can wait, right? I just have some questions for you, momma!" She practically begged her mom, as she stayed put on the floor._ _Lerrie_ _shook her head in amusement at her little girl and sat on the couch, "Well, I suppose the Dawn Monster can wait a few minutes. Shoot."_    
   
_Claire's eyes lit up as she turned to look at her mom, her position shifting to a kneeling one, "What did it feel like being in front of all those people, momma?" She wanted to know a lot of things, but the way her mother stood on stage with her head held high and her eyes roaming around every single corner of the theatre made her wonder what she was feeling while she was doing so._    
   
_"Well," Lerrie started, her fingers smoothing out the front of her apron, "it was very scary for me. One time, I almost puked." She added a little humor to her response, "but I told myself that I didn't go that far for me to puke right before I give everything I have to an audience that was there to appreciate the art of theatre." She explained, sincerity evident in her voice. "The art of theatre?" Claire asked, a confused expression blending in her features. "Yes, the art of theatre. A beautiful masterpiece. Something so delicate, so fragile, and so... extraordinary. The art of theatre isn't always_ _recogniz_ _ed_ _, as I've learned. But_ _o_ _n_ _c_ _e_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _r_ _e_ _c_ _o_ _g_ _n_ _i_ _z_ _e_ _i_ _t_ _,_ _i_ _t_ _’_ _s_ _a_ _worl_ _d_ _t_ _h_ _a_ _t_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _c_ _a_ _n_ _n_ _e_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _t_ _u_ _rn_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _r_ _he_ _a_ _d_ _f_ _r_ _o_ _m_ _._ _"_ _L_ _e_ _r_ _r_ _i_ _e_ _e_ _x_ _p_ _l_ _a_ _i_ _n_ _e_ _d_ _,_ _a_ _be_ _au_ _t_ _i_ _f_ _u_ _l_ _s_ _m_ _i_ _l_ _e_ _e_ _t_ _c_ _he_ _d_ _o_ _n_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _f_ _a_ _c_ _e_ _a_ _s_ _sh_ _e_ _e_ _xpla_ _i_ _n_ _e_ _d_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _h_ _om_ _e_ _s_ _h_ _e_ _l_ _i_ _v_ _e_ _d_ _i_ _n_ _be_ _f_ _o_ _r_ _e_ _sh_ _e_ _g_ _a_ _v_ _e_ _b_ _irth_ _t_ _o_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _l_ _i_ _t_ _t_ _l_ _e_ _g_ _i_ _r_ _l_ _._ _._ _._ _t_ _h_ _e_ _s_ _a_ _m_ _e_ _h_ _o_ _m_ _e_ _sh_ _e_ _l_ _e_ _f_ _t_ _t_ _o_ _m_ _ak_ _e_ _a_ _ne_ _w_ _o_ _n_ _e for her family. "wow, momma. Will I ever get to see the art of theatre?" Claire looked up at her mother, eyes glistening with excitement and happiness._  

 

_"Your heart will decide that for you, my love."_  

 

_~~_    
   
   
"Claire! Earth to Claire!" Gabrielle Veinsworth snapped her fingers in front of her best friend that was clearly staring into nothing. "What? I'm listening!" 18 year old Claire Meyers expressed, lifting a fork of her awful cafeteria spaghetti to her mouth. "Sure you were. What was the last thing I mentioned?" Gabrielle tested, fully knowing that Claire was indeed _not_ listening to her story about how she walked out of her Art class this morning because her apple did not look as good as the model that was placed in front of her. "Um... you passed the History exam?" Claire said, also thinking _hey, maybe it'll be a lucky guess._    
   
" _I passed the History exam._ " Gabrielle mocked, her voice going deeper as usual. "Yeah, nice try, Meyers. I failed every single History exam Mr. Marlon gave." Claire rolled her eyes at her best friend and let out an amused laugh, "Great. Now that I know you're a failure in History class, I can use that as an advantage." She winked as she pushed away the plate of disgusting spaghetti away from her. One forkful was enough to throw it in the trash.  "No, in all seriousness, I'm sorry for not paying attention. I was just... thinking." She let out a soft chuckle, resting her palms on the table in front of her. "Thinking about what?" Gabrielle couldn't help but ask. "Mom. Theatre. New York." All it took were 3 words for Gabrielle to understand Claire's thoughts that seemingly took her attention from everything that was happening around her. Her mom was probably the best thing that the universe blessed Claire with, the theatre and the thought of New York were just part of the package.    
   
"Ah. Well. Sorry, kid. But you got Gabrielle. Philosophy Class. Philadelphia." Gabrielle joked, her hand tapping on the knuckles of Claire's. She knew, though, that the three words that Claire mentioned were very important to her. She just didn't want Claire crying over it in the middle of a college cafeteria. "Yeah, well, aren't I just unlucky?" Claire responded, a smirk on her face as she gave herself a pat on the back for coming up with a clever comeback. "Ha, ha. Funny." Gabrielle rolled her eyes  as she stood up, "We've got free period next. Fancy going out of school?"  

 

   
   
"I thought you'd never ask." 

 

And just like that, the two college girls were out and about in the streets of Philadelphia.   
  


 


	2. Philadelphia

CHAPTER 2  
 

 

Philadelphia. Lovely, beautiful, and noisy Philadelphia. Claire wondered how she survived living there, really. A lot of yelling was always heard from her next door neighbors, a lot of cars honking at each other **for hours,** a lot of ding-dong ditches have been witnessed, and it was just... a lot. But of course, it wasn't all that bad. For starters, they had the infamous Philly Cheese Steak Sandwiches – although, it seemed like the tourists only ever cared about that – they had pop punk bands that were either flopping or already rising to the top of the charts, and they had the Liberty Bell and the Declaration of Independence – you know, the minor stuff. 

 

"It's scorching hot today, oh my god! I'm sweating in places that I never thought I would!" Gabrielle _dramatically_ expresses, tugging up the sleeves of her _Pierce The Veil_ sweater. Oh, the irony. "First of all, it's July. You know how hot it gets! Second of all, take off your sweater! As you said, it's _scorching_ hot!" Claire tugged on the thick sweater that her friend had on. And Gabrielle being Gabrielle responded with, "paws off, Meyers! I saved up for this sweater and I am NOT going to wait until January next year to wear it!" You see, Gabrielle Veinsworth does not fuck around with her clothes. It could be Christmas, and she'd still wear summer clothing if it means looking cute as hell. It was just a habit of hers that never really got taken away. Sometimes it was beneficial, but other times, it's just complete whack – like today.   
   
"Look, Gabbie, you're literally sweating through this thick ass sweater. Take it off before you drown in your own sweat!" Claire took the sweater off her as fast as she could, leaving Gabrielle in a baby blue tank top. "See? now, you can breathe better, Sherlock." Claire rolled her eyes, laughing as she threw the sweater to Gabrielle. "Ugh. I don't look cute in blue." She heard Gabrielle mutter.    
   
"You really don't look cute in anything."    
   
 

~~

 

You guessed it. The pair ended up eating at **_Joe's Steaks + Soda Shop_**. It was where college students usually eat after a long day at University. Luckily, they were both college students that had a long day at University. It was a win-win situation.    
   
"I am so glad that my parents decided to raise me here in Philly just because of the cheese steaks." Gabrielle moaned, taking another bite of her said cheese steak. That girl could marry it if she could. "How come you eat like a ton of that and still manage to not gain weight?" Claire asked, taking a bit of her own cheese steak. "Genes, my friend. Also, who cares about weight? They're just numbers! The only numbers you should worry about is the cue number that they give you in KFC for your order." Gabrielle replied, winking at her best friend. That's one of the many reasons why Claire still puts up with her. She just does her own thing, without fear of anyone's judgment. _She was the exact opposite of Claire. She was outgoing, carefree, and confident. The things that Claire wished she was, but never were._  

 

"Hey, you going to eat that?" Gabrielle pointed to the half eaten cheese steak sandwich that was placed on Claire's red plate, "Because I'll gladly eat it, if you don't want to."    
Claire, being a softie and a giver, rolled her eyes playfully and pushed the plate towards Gabrielle, "help yourself, Gabbie." It was no surprise when Claire heard a little "YES!" From the brunette that sat in front of her, gobbling down what's left of her cheese steak.  

 

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if you're attracted to cheese steaks more than guys and girls." Claire joked, her lips wrapping around the spiral straw that  sunk into her glass of Coke. "Well, I guess you can say I'm a... cheese-steak-sexual." Gabrielle snorted, the cheese steak in her hand plopping back down on the plate as she covered her mouth, attempting to drown out the animal-like noises that her mouth was making – also known as her laugh. "Oh my god." Claire leaned back on her chair and slapped her palm on her forehead as hard as she could, "OH MY GOD. YOU ARE THE WORST."   
  
"The worst BUT the funniest. Admit it, Meyers. Your life would be dull without me." Gabrielle said, recovering from her laughing fit. Honestly, she was the only person that Claire knew who would laugh THAT hard over her own joke. Guess that's what she gets for coping up with someone like Gabrielle  Veinsworth.

"Ah. Look at you, ego booster." Claire teased, thumbing Gabrielle's forehead with her thumb and pointer finger, "keep telling yourself that. My life would be just fine without you."   
   
"Oh. Sure it will, Goldilocks."   
"Goldilocks?   
"Yes. Goldilocks."   
"Eat your cheese steak, Veinsworth."   
"Don't mind if I do, Meyers." 

 

Well, that's Philly for Claire Meyers; it was a lot, but cheese steaks are always the answer.  

 


	3. Orlando Smith

CHAPTER 3  
 

 

 **W** ith eyes glued to the screen, 12 year old Orlando Smith muttered incoherent but supportive words towards his favorite team – _Real Madrid._ Not to mention that they were on the lead already. It was safe to say that he was absolutely begging the gods above to let them win just so he can brag about how successful and cool his favorite team was – but also because he'd definitely end up curled on his bed, trying not to cry over the loss of a simple football game. _"And there goes Ronaldo with the ball between his feet!" The commentator announced, him standing up in anticipation as well. "the goal is only a few feet away! Will he make it? Will he bring the trophy and bestow it upon his team?" His voice getting louder by the second rhetorical question that he'd given. And in 10.5 seconds,Orlando's facial expression lit up as the crowd cheered loudly._    
   
 _"AND GOAL! CRISTIANO RONALDO HAS DONE IT AGAIN!" The commentator basically shouted. "Yes! Yes! YES!" Orlando cheered, standing up and doing a 'manly' celebratory dance. Oh, how he wished he could score a goal someday._  

 

~ ~   
   
"How's school?" 18 year old Orlando Smith heard his father ask as he walked through the wooden door that was decorated with the same Halloween ornaments from last year's event. They were a busy family was their excuse for not taking the time to take down the decorations. Just imagine 1st graders going home and catching a glimpse of a skeleton standing outside a front porch in the middle of July. Yeah, it was quite a hilarious but terrifying thought.    
   
"School was stressful, as always." Orlando responded, putting his bag down on the L-shaped couch and grabbing an apple from the pantry on their marble kitchen counter. "Nothing interesting happened? Possibly an A in English?" his father, Wesley Smith, asked again. This time, with an undeniable hint of hope lingering along his voice. He wanted Orlando to be just like him; smart, focused, and a lawyer. _He wanted his son to be_ _a lawyer._ Well, let's just say his son wanted to be a football player. Same thing, right?   
"how about a B, dad? It's a passing grade, anyways." Orlando teased, taking a bite from his apple and sitting across from his dad on the kitchen table. Of course, he got an A. English was like a piece of cake for him, he can answer the exams with his eyes closed. But what fun would it be if he told his dad straight up that he did, in fact, pass the English test with flying colors? 

 

"A B?! I certainly hope you're joking around, Orlando." His dad looked back at him with his left eyebrow raised and arms crossed in front of his chest. Orlando rolled his eyes and shook his head, "learn to take a joke, dad. And what if I _did_ get a B? It'll be fine! It's not like I'm a perfect student." he threw what was left of his apple in the trash. "and yes, father. I got an A. something you only care about." And with that, he took his bag from the couch and made his way upstairs, quickly getting in his room and locking the door. 

 

There was only one person he can call to rant to.  

And boy, does she know how to make Orlando laugh AND want to jump off a cliff at the same time. 

 

~~   
   
"So, why am I here?" There stood the magnificently dressed Max Gold with her usual attire; one of her too many white shirts, a pair of black jeans, and a cap. "Well, for starters, my dad is being a complete ass again." Orlando sighed, laying on his bed while playing with his football pillow in his arms, "Literally the only thing he cared about was my grade in English. I decided to joke around with him and said that I got a B. He almost went ballistic! A B is not THAT bad!" He tried to express, his arms flying around everywhere as he explained, the football pillow ending up across the room.  

"The highest I got in English was a C minus, my brother. I don't know what getting a B feels like." Max snickered, getting the pillow from the floor and throwing it to her best friend's face. "and besides, aren't you used to it already? You know, getting statements like that from your father." And the truth is, Orlando was used to it. But that didn't mean that he had to be fine with it every day when he gets home. "I am. I just want him to stop. I could easily move out right now, actually. I am 18 after all." Orlando blurted out, not giving what he said a second thought. In all honesty, moving out wasn't even an inch close to being easy. Sure, they were rich – oh wait no, his parents were rich. Orlando just lived off of them. The truth hurts.   
   
"Well, maybe you'd get a B if you I don't know... actually studied?" Orlando laughed, sitting up as he stretched his arms before him. Max, being the sarcastic human she is, laughed as loud as she can and even made the effort to sprawl across the floor, "Study?! You're funny!" "You look like a starfish, Max. Get up." Orlando shook his head as he looked at his best friend in amusement. "Well, I am the Patrick in our friendship. You're clearly Spongebob, ya goody-two-shoes!" Max said, getting up from the floor and dusting off the dirt on her white shirt, "And for your information, I do study... I just forget everything when the exam paper is right in front of me."    
 

"And don't forget your inability to spell." Orlando let out a loud snicker, his palm immediately covering his own mouth as he tried not to laugh out loud. "Hey! I can spell!" Max protested, fixing the cap on her head with a slight pout on her face, "I just... forget some letters sometimes."    
   
"Sure, _throught_." Orlando responded, referencing the time when Max misspelled the word 'throat' while texting him about the bad cough she had 2 months ago. The text said, _"Caught the biggest pain-in-the-ass cough in the world. My_ _throught_ _hurts a lot!!!!!"_ And ever since then, Orlando used that whenever it was needed – like right now. 

"OKAY, LISTEN. I was sick and I wasn't in the right state of mind!" Max said, her arms raising up in defense. "Big words, Max! Did you swallow a dictionary on the way here?" Orlando teased, his tongue sticking out at her as he laughed. "Put that tongue back from where it came from, if you don't want me yanking it out and feeding it to my dogs." Max threatened, already getting into position to attack Orlando. 

 

 _"I'd like to see you try."_   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He wished he would've just kept his mouth shut.


	4. The Kindergarten & The Auditorium

CHAPTER 4

 

 **C** laire made her way to the kindergarten that she worked part time at after school days. She needed her own money to actually live, because her dad was always at work and was too busy to give her some allowance that could last at least a week. Working in the kindergarten was a handful, but Claire loved kids. She was absolutely smitten with them, add to the fact that she was a total softie as well. So when a kid asks for an extra juice box, Claire has to stop herself from giving them the whole mini fridge that they had sitting in the corner. Although, it did have its bad days. Claire's heart would break whenever a little kid wouldn't go in the classroom because they didn't want their momma to leave, because she remembered begging her own momma to not leave as well. She would always be the nice teacher and tell them that their momma was going to be back in no time, and they'll be at home together for the rest of night. She would say that, because no one ever said that to her. She never heard those words from anyone else ever since she turned 10 years old. In the kindergarten, there was never a day where a kid didn't lose his/her mind over a toy or over their parents leaving, it seemed like every kid did this at least once. Well, every kid except for one.  

 

"Good afterwoon, Ms. Care!" 5 year old Oscar Smith cheered, hugging Claire tightly around her waist. He never really got her name right, but that’s okay, because he was the cutest little boy to have ever walked the Earth – according to Claire anyway. "Good afterwoon to you too, Oscar!" She greeted back, hugging him just as tight. "How was your weekend?" Claire remembered Oscar telling her that him and his older brother were going out for a playful game of football in the nearby park. "Not so good. My big brother got home late so we didn't end up going..." He said, with a frown on his face. Claire almost gasped, Oscar never frowned when he was in the classroom. He was the only kid in the class that would arrive with a big smile on his face, and his hair all dolled up for the day. He never cried out for his parents when they were already driving away. Hell, he even waved at them until they were out of sight. Seeing a frown forming on his face was an absolute no-no for Claire. 

 

"Oh no, turn that frown upside down, Os! I'm sure your brother feels bad, and is already thinking of ways to make it up to you!" Claire smiled, kneeling down to the little boy's height, pinching his chubby cheeks. "Really? You think so? Do you think we'll get ice cream too?" Oscar's smile made an appearance again, and his eyes lit up as he mentioned ice cream. Ah, kids and sugar. Always a great combination. "Yes, I really think so. Now, let's go. Wouldn't want you to be late to class, now would we?" Claire stood up once again, offering her hand for Oscar to take. 

 

~~ 

Class went by quickly, and before you know it, the kids were already saying their goodbye's to their teachers and getting in their cars to go home. _"_ _I miss being a kid... just for the sake of getting home early."_ Claire thought to herself as she smiled and waved at the little kids that bid farewell to her. You'd think after a long day at University and a couple more hours at a kindergarten, Claire would have enough sanity to think of going home and resting. But you see, that's just not the case. After her kindergarten class, she'd go straight to her mom's favorite place; _the public auditorium._ People rarely go there, because as her mom once said, _the art of theatre isn't always recognized._ So, Claire goes there to just... sing. To try and experience the art of theatre without an audience staring straight at her with their judging eyes. She goes there to possibly... just possibly try to make a home out of a room that was filled with echoes.  

 

~~ 

"Hey, old thing." Claire chuckled as she opened the lights to the auditorium, it was so beautiful. The red curtains were held back by the rope, the lights were just the perfect kind, and the seats looked as if they were just brought in today. It's safe to say she and the public auditorium manager took care of this place just fine. Speaking of which, "Claire, darling!" Turning around, she saw the woman that she mentioned was the public auditorium manager, Jacquelyn Cortes. "Jackie! I'm sorry that I suddenly just barged in. I was afraid you'd lock up since no one really goes in at this time." Claire sheepishly said, running a hand through her thick auburn hair. "Nonsense, dear girl! I never lock up until you come running through the door." Jacquelyn said, a sincere smile on her face. For a 60 year old woman, she looked absolutely young for her age. And that included no plastic surgery or whatsoever. It was all natural, and Claire just straight up thanked god for making someone so beautiful. She appreciated Jacquelyn a lot, considering that she stood as her mother for some times in her life. But of course, no one could ever really replace Lerrie Meyers. Anyone could try, but they'd fail in the end. 

 

"Now, you just made me sound like a theatre geek." Claire laughed, as she gave Jackie a hug. "Because you are! You really do take after your mother, you know that right?" Jackie responded, hugging the young girl back. Claire's heart skipped a bit when she heard Jackie say those 14 words. _Hear that? I'm just like you, momma._ Claire thought to herself as she pulled away from the hug. "Well, I guess you already know how everything works around here, right?" Jackie asked, readjusting the purse that she had on her shoulder. "Yes, ma'am! Lock up by 9pm, close all the lights, tie the curtains back, and double check everything right after!" Claire recited the 4 golden rules that Jackie had reminded her of thousands of times. It was no surprise that she memorized it by the 5th day that she came inside the auditorium. "Good girl. Now, go and do whatever it is you do on that stage." Jackie let out a knowing laugh, and blew a kiss to the teenage girl. "I'll see you tomorrow, darling." "See you, Jackie!"   
   
 _"Well, mom. I guess it's just you and me now." Claire sighed happily, making her way to the stage. She looked across the sea of seats that were absolutely empty, and she imagined her gorgeous mother sitting in the first row, with a proud smile attached to her face and tears of joy welling up to her eyes. She imagined, and somehow, that was enough to make her feel like everything fell into place._    
   
 _'"I dreamed a dream in time gone by, when hope was high and life worth living..."_  

 


	5. Football

CHAPTER 5

 

 **T** uesday mornings are the same as any other mornings. Well, at least for Orlando. His mornings always started with a "s _o, what are your plans for today?"_ rather than a simple and meaningful _"good morning!"_. He can barely remember the last time his parents gave him a cheerful smile when he walked into the room to get ready for the day. _"what a bunch of grumps."_ Orlando thought to himself as he walked inside the massive kitchen that his parents purchased just because they can. And as expected, there were no good morning's being passed around.    
   
"Orlando, what are your plans for today?" His mother, Sheila Smith, asked as she flipped another page from the latest issue of _Vogue_ magazine. In all honesty, he was always nervous to answer that question. Always nervous to let the same words roll off his tongue, but he was (at least) raised with morals. He can never bring himself to lie to his own parents. "well, I'll be at the park later – the one near Oscar's kindergarten. I'll be practicing footie with Max for the big game this weekend." He said, letting out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. He wanted to shut his eyes, and cover his ears because he knows _just_ what his parents were going to say.   
   
"footie? Again? How many times have we told you to focus on your studies, Orlando? Is it hard to understand that we just want you to set aside football for a minute until you graduate?" His dad, Wesley, responded. Clearly, he was angry at the fact that Orlando was spending so much time on the field rather than with his books. You'd think after years and years of constant nagging and reminding of his future that Orlando would be used to this. But he wasn't. And frankly, he's going to start flipping tables soon. "Dad, football is a part of my life. I can't just push it to the side. I pass all my tests – hell, I get an A most of the time! I get to school early, I get home on time, I do my homework, I do every single thing you've demanded me to do. And all I want is for you to be supportive of my hobby, but you couldn't that even if you tried." He calmly replied, his fists gripping onto nothing as his knuckles turn into a pale shade of white. He had respect for his parents, of course he did. What he wanted was some respect from them.  

"Who do you think you are to talk to your father like that?" Sheila stood up, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at her son. "I'm your child, Ma. Just in case you forgot," Orlando took his glass of fresh milk from the counter, "but maybe you already did, considering the fact that you don't even think twice about caring for my happiness." And with that, he left them stunned, sitting on the kitchen table as he made his way upstairs to his room. God, he felt so much weight being lifted off his shoulders. Sometimes, you just have to have some guts to say what's on your mind. 

 

~~   
   
"Your bwag?" Orlando's 5 year old little brother, Oscar Smith, was helping him get ready for school. After the incident this morning, he decided to just get ready for the day and forget about it. So, here he was in his bedroom, 2 hours before his first class starts. "Thank you, Os." Orlando laughed, taking his bag from the little boy.  

"Your water jwug?"    
"Mhm. Wouldn't want to forget about that!"   
"Your notebwooks?"   
"Education is important, yes."   
"Your bwooks?"   
"We have the internet, but alright."   
"Your cwomb?"   
"Yep, gotta make sure my hair is alright for the rest of the day!"   
"Yeah. You dwefinitely nweed it."   
"Wha--"   
"Your wallet?"   
"I don't have any money."   
"Me nweither!"   
   
Orlando shook his head in amusement, letting out a laugh once again as he hugged Oscar, "you're one weird kid, aren't ya?" Oscar giggled and nodded proudly, "I get it from you!" Orlando gasped, feigning hurt as he puts a hand over his chest, "and who said I was weird?!" "Max!" Oscar blurted out, slapping his little hand over his mouth quickly, muttering a quick "oh shwoot! I wasn't swupposed to twell!" Orlando stood up, gathered his things and winked at Oscar, "I'm going to tell Max you told me. Bye, Os! I love you!"   
   
"I wuv you, too!"   
   
~~   
   
"So, Oscar told me something this morning." It was the end of classes, and Max just so happens to be walking with Orlando to the park near Oscar's kindergarten, "he said that you called me weird." Max busted out laughing, "that's because you are! I call you that on a daily basis. Don't act surprised, weirdo." "LOOK. My little brother thinks I'm the coolest person to have ever walked the planet, I don't need you ruining that reputation for me." Orlando responded, his tone giving out a hint of amusement. "Whatever, Mr. I'm-Not-Weird. Anyways, how did it feel to talk back for once?" Max asked, referring to Orlando's _calm_ comeback to his parents that morning. What **did** he feel? Besides relieved and tension-free, what exactly did he feel? It's all a mix of emotions, he decided. He obviously didn't like the tone of disrespect that he gave out to start the morning, but he also liked the fact that he decided to stand up for himself for once. He was 18 years old, and it's unfair that he still gets his life controlled by his parents to the point that he couldn't do what he wants to do in the future anymore.    
   
"Well," Orlando started to explain, placing the football in front of his feet once they reached the park, "I liked it, but I also didn't like it. Does that make sense? Like, I liked the fact that I had enough courage to stand up for myself, but of course, they were still my parents. I disliked that I came off as rude and harsh – especially at 10 in the morning." Max nodded, looking like she understood what he was trying to say. "I'm proud of you, though. Football is a part of your life, man. Don't let anyone take that away from you. Sometimes, you just got to realize that you're still your own person, and you have to make decisions on your own to be able to actually live." and to say the least, Orlando was stunned with the words that Max just said, almost forgetting how to kick the ball even.   
   
"Did Maxine Kimberley Gold just give a meaningful and deep mini-speech? With no mistakes and laugh breaks?" Orlando covered his mouth with both hands, showing off the world's most pretentious shocked facial expression. In one quick movement though, that shocked facial expression turned into a pained one as Max elbowed his stomach two times to show just how pissed she got. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!" He groaned out, his arms making their way to loop around his waist to try and lessen the pain that shot through his body. "First of all, **_Smith_** , you know better than to use my first name, let alone my second name! Second of all, my full name is full of shame and I'm going to kick you where the sun doesn't shine if you use it ever again. Is that understood?" Max said, her eyes squinting at the pained boy right in front of her.    
   
"Aye aye, Captain... Kimberley."   
"I'm about to hit a goal, Orlando."   
"What do you mean--"   
  


 

 

 

 

 

  
And that's how Max's foot ended up colliding with Orlando's crotch, also known as  _ Max's  Own _ _Kind Of Football_.


	6. Shakespeare

CHAPTER 6

 

 **M** aking her way to her third class of the day, Claire felt as if she was already drained of all her energy. She had an excuse to feel that way, though. Because just imagine having your first class of the day as Calculus. At. Nine. Thirty. In. The. Morning. The moment she walked into Mrs. Jensen's classroom, she wanted to leave right away. But all bad things must come to an end, which leads us back to her walking to her third class of the day; which was English Literature with one of her favorite teachers ever – Mr. Zoren. He was the type of teacher that would literally look like he'd have the ability to make you regret being alive, but really, he was a teddy bear that loved and cared for his students as much as he would with his own kids. It was safe to say that nearly every kid at her University wanted to be in his class just for the hell of it. 

"Good morning, Mr. Z!" Claire greeted, a tired but happy smile on her face. "Good morning, Claire! How was the kindergarten yesterday?" Mr. Z replied, smiling as he gathered a bunch of papers that he had to grade before putting them to the side. He knew about Claire working in a kindergarten when he saw her walking out of it after the first day of school, of course he wanted to know what an 18 year old was doing inside a school full of 5 year olds running around. Claire didn't mind one bit sharing the reason why she was there; Mr. Z was like a father figure to her, considering her father didn't have the time to be with her for most days. "Well, it was quite hectic, to say the least. But nothing that the teachers and I couldn't handle. They were noisy and very, very playful, but then again, what kid isn't?" Claire chuckled as she took a seat in first row of chairs. "Oh trust me, you teenagers are worse than a bunch of 5 year olds." Mr. Z joked, letting out a laugh as he watched the swarm of students make their way inside of his classroom. He winked at Claire, signaling that he was going into his teacher mode. And everybody absolutely adored his teacher mode. He quickly spun around, and smiled cheerfully, a purple fan held by his right hand.    
   
"Good morning, everyone! Today, we will be learning about Shakespeare." The class erupted with happy sighs, one of the kids at the back even yelled, "HELL YEAH!" Causing everyone to let out a little giggle. "Can anyone tell me a little bit about Shakespeare?" Mr. Z asked, fanning himself as he walked around the classroom, "anyone?" You'd think after the class gave their positive feedback to learning about Shakespeare, they'd know who he was. Sadly, they just knew him as the guy who wrote _Romeo and Juliet._  Nobody raised their hands, nobody dared to look at Mr. Z in the eye. They were all looking somewhere off the distance, trying to not get called out.    
   
Claire had enough of the silence. _If they won't speak,_ she said to herself, _then I will._ She stood up and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, "Shakespeare was a great writer and poet. He wrote some of the world's most beautiful Sonnets and books. His writing has been talked about for more than 100 years, and his love for literature amazed every single person that lived and that died. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and wrote until the day he died. He was so committed to his work, that every single he wrote was already a masterpiece for some. He was a literary genius." She finished, not realizing just how much passion she put into explaining who Shakespeare was. Everyone looked at her, with stunned expressions that were oddly similar. Mr. Z smiled proudly, his head nodding at the girl that might as well do his job for him, "good job, Ms. Meyers. You may take a seat." Claire let out a breath of relief and smiled in response, sitting back down and opening her notebook as Mr. Z expanded the information that she just gave him. 

 

She had a passion of every kind of art, and she found it sad that some people just thought of it has a waste of time. She didn't think it was a waste of time; she thought every word, every artwork, every note, every step, and every ounce of passion that was put into those kinds of art was beautiful. Every single piece was astonishing, and she was more than willing to explain just how she appreciated the different colors that Art provided the world. 

 

~~   
 

It was the end of the day, and Claire thanked the gods above for the millionth time for it. Her last class was Trigonometry and boy, did she wanted to run out and cry in the bathroom for at least a century. She was just glad it was over and that she could go home to rest. The kindergarten let her off for the day, understanding that sometimes she needed a break because she was still in University and holding up work and studies was hard as it is. That was another thing she was thankful for. She was absolutely stress-free today, and she wondered when she'll feel this way again.   
   
She walked home, 911 on speed dial. _Hey, you can never be too careful!_  She once exclaimed to Gabrielle when she laughed at her for being too tense in walking home. Danger is just around the corner, and Claire didn't want to run into it anytime soon. It was getting a bit dark, and her grip on her phone got stronger as she readied her skills in kung fu from 2nd grade. And as she said, you can never be too careful. 

 

~~   
   
She got home, breathing out a sigh of relief. Nothing happened to her, fortunately. While she was making her way to the front door, she noticed a black Range Rover parked by their driveway. "Did dad get a new car?" She asked herself, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to think of all the possible reasons of why this car was parked in front of their house. She decided to just find out by herself when she gets into the house, she was sure that it was nothing to be worried about. She continued walking towards their front door and got out her keys, making sure to insert the right one. "don't fuck up putting in the key to your own house, Claire." She reminded herself, successfully unlocking the door.   
   
"Dad? I'm home!" She called out, putting her keys in the small bowl that was positioned on the wooden table just beside the front door. She waited for a few seconds to get a reply, and nothing was heard from the house. She rolled her eyes, and muttered a small "of course" under her breath. She was used to not having him in the house, she didn't know why she even bothered asking. She turned to go up the stairs and into her room, so she could finally get a good night sleep. But a voice quickly stopped her from doing so, one that was too familiar for her to not recognize.   
   
 

 

 

 

"Well, I mean, I'm not dad, but I definitely am happy to see you home."  

 

   
 


	7. Matt Meyers

CHAPTER 7  
 

 

 **T** here stood Matt Meyers, with two bagels in each hand and his iconic black and green glasses on top of his face. Claire couldn't believe what – who she was seeing right in front of her eyes. Her 23 year old brother that moved out of their house as quickly as he possibly can when he graduated college to go to New York to pursue being an artist was standing in the middle of their living room, chewing obnoxiously while staring back at her, waiting for a reply. "Look, I know I'm handsome and all, but stop checking me out. I'm your brother and that's just gross." Matt said, swallowing the piece of bagel that he was chewing in his mouth. Claire rolled her eyes, and tried not to let a smile show, "First of all, Ew. Second of all, didn't mom and dad ever teach you not to chew loudly?" Matt squinted his eyes at his little sister, in a joking manner. Before you know it, he was already laughing and bringing Claire into a huge bear hug.    
  
   
"Oh, c'mon, Primrose! Don't act like you didn't miss me!" with every single word, Matt hugged her tighter and tighter. Claire didn't know if she wanted to punch him for calling her by her **_awful_** second name or hug him because he's been away for quite some time and she did kind of miss him somehow. So, she decided to do both. "Don't" she punched his shoulder, "call", another punch on his arm, "me", another one on his hip, "Primrose!" and the last one just on the most sensitive part of his stomach. "CLAIRE!" Matt groaned, dropping the bagels that he held in his hands, "YOU'RE SUCH A NIMWIT!" "Great. I missed you, bro." Claire laughed as she hugged her brother as tight as he did with her. Deep inside, she silently thanked whatever made Matt go home because at least the house wouldn't be so lonely anymore. "How have you been?" She asked, pulling her pained brother to the kitchen to let him sit down. She didn't actually mean to hurt him **that** bad, she was 5" flat and had very tiny hands. She wasn't exactly built for hurting someone badly.  

   
  
Matt took a seat on one of the dining chairs, holding his stomach, trying to lessen the minor pain that Claire inflicted with her dainty but vicious hands. "I was doing great, until you decided to beat me up for calling you--" he was cut off by Claire's warning tone, "don't say it." Matt, being the absolute dick that he is, smirked and didn't think twice on saying her second name, "-- _Primrose_." Claire was about to hit him again, when she realized that she can't keep hitting her brother; he might end up dead on the kitchen floor. So, she lowered her fist down and glared at him, "you're lucky that I am a kind and sweet girl, _Danilo_." she decided on using his second name as well, just for the sake of having a witty comeback. You see, their parents weren't really the best at naming their children; she and Matt were proof of that. Matt shook his head, "wow. You're so mature!" Sticking his tongue out, and glaring back at her. "says the one who has his tongue out. Remind me again how you're the older one between us?"    
   
  
~~   
   
  
"So, that's why you came back home?" Claire asked, taking a sip of her coffee in her favorite kitten mug that Gabrielle gave to her for Christmas. It was currently 12 midnight, and there they were, in their pajamas and drinking coffee. Matt told her the reason why he came back home, it was easy for Claire to understand. She thought he was wanted at some place or something more dangerous. But nope. It was because he used so much inspiration in New York for his artworks, that there was no more left for him to use. Now, he's back in Philadelphia to restore his inspiration to keep making new artworks. He thought that maybe there would be something in Philadelphia that was cliche, yet subtle. Something that involved love, mystery, and... obstacles. Was it possible? Yes. Was he willing to find out? Yes. His eyes were sharp enough to detect what he was looking for; maybe it just hasn't happened yet.   


"Yep. New Yorkers weren't too fond of my work anymore," Matt snickered, taking a sip of black coffee as well. You see, he wasn't just any artist. A normal artist would paint a beautiful portrait of a sunset, whereareas, Matt would be that artist who would draw a penis  _watching_ a sunset. A literal penis. Sure, he had those days where his artworks were absolutely beautiful and are actually pleasing to the eyes. But that was his profession; penises in sceneries. He liked to call it **_People As Penises_**. "Why? They got tired of seeing penises floating in an ocean?" Claire laughed, putting down her mug. "Hey! That was one of my most popular artworks, mind you." Matt pointed out, clearly proud of his **_Penis The Mermaid_**  portrait that he came up with years ago. "Yeah, and mom went absolutely ballistic when she saw the whole painting." They laughed, reminiscing their mom's reaction when she held the final outcome of Matt's painting.    
  
   
_"MATTHEW DANILO MEYERS!" Lerrie screamed, her eyes widening at the painting that she held in her very hands, "What in the blooming hell is this?!" Matt let out a tiny smirk, "well, that's art, ma!" And he wished he shouldn't have said that. "ART?! PENISES ARE ART TO YOU?!"_ _Lerrie_ _looked at her son, crazy anger in her eyes. "Well, Ma, if it wasn't for a penis, you wouldn't have given birth to Claire and I!" Matt responded, being the smart ass that he was. "MATTHEW!" "WHAT! STOP YELLING AT ME!" Matt whined, stomping his feet like a 6 year old. "Erase this!" "No! C'mon, Ma! Lighten up! You told me that my art was supposed to be different and much more interesting than the others! This IS different and interesting!" He explained, his hands going above and beyond as he kept speaking. "So, what? You're going to sell this? For how much?" Lerrie asked her son, trying to calm herself down. "Yeah. For like 69 bucks." Matt snorted at his own joke, mentally giving himself a high five. "MATTHEW!" "ALRIGHT! 70 BUCKS THEN, GEEZ!"_    
   
  
They both smiled at the memory, looking down at their mugs. "I miss mom," Matt said, quietly. "I miss her lasagna." Claire rolled her eyes fondly at her older brother, shaking her head. But she, too, missed their mom just as much. If possible, maybe even more. "She would've been so proud of you." She said, chuckling lightly as she continued, "she wouldn't have ever thought that you'd be one of the most famous street artists in New York. She would've gone crazy knowing that you continued on with your penis idea." "She would've laughed at the end of the day, though. Because aside from being a mom, she was our best friend, you know? She was the light in this house." Matt responded, looking around their house, "she was the light that we weren't ready to lose." Claire felt her heart break little by little, Matt's words digging into her brain. 

 

 

 

 

 

 _Indeed,_ _Lerrie_ _Meyers was the light they weren't ready to lose. But, they did anyway. And nobody knows why the universe had to take her away from them in one sudden motion._  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Before anything else,
> 
> Prudence (Class of 2015-2016), y'all made my dreams come true and I can never thank you enough for it! I've been writing this book since 2015, but only got around to rewriting it to make it better. Thank you for believing in me when not many people did. Y'all are the reason why I write, and write, and write, and write. Thank you for being the reason for my happiness.
> 
> To Max and Matt,
> 
> Thank you for helping me with this book. This book wouldn't have been alive in the first place without the two of you by my side. Also, I'm so glad that the both of you hold 2 of the major characters' positions. I just knew you'd be fit for the parts. Thank you, a billion times thank you. The universe has given me the greatest co-authors in the world. 
> 
> To my batch,
> 
> Y'all know how much y'all mean to me. Thank you for supporting this book even if it wasn't out yet. I decided to publish it on here first so everyone can read it. I don't want y'all waiting for the physical copy, because it's not a sure deal yet. However, I do wish you guys would still enjoy reading the book from here. This is the outcome of everything I worked hard for.
> 
> I love you.
> 
> This is our book, not only mine.
> 
> Yours truly,
> 
> Yana Romero.


End file.
